In Memory
by MikroSouvlaki03
Summary: Haytham struggles over the death of his wife, Ziio.


Haytham sat helpessly on the worn out couch in his office, his eyes contemplating a vase on his dark wooden desk in the middle of the room, the red flowers that it held glared strangely at him as if they cursed him for looking at them so.. Sadly. The little string that tied the plants together held a small white card, binded with the roses around their green, thornless necks. From the looks of it, they seemed to choke much more by the message inside the little card rather than the string that look a little too tight around them. The well printed words on the card were the ones that would haunt Haytham's being for the rest of his life, black and bold as they look.

_'In memory of our Beloved Ziio. We are sorry for your loss.'_

He couldn't look at that damned card any longer, he just couldn't. Not without knowing the reality he's living in right now. Not without accepting it with whatever will that was left in him to fight his way through this chaos of a life he's leading. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, running his hands over his face a handful of times in a way to try and wake himself up from this dreadful nightmare. But he knew this was no bad dream, he kept reminding himself. He'd cry enough tears over this to know what is real and what is not.

His life seemed like a huge mess now that Ziio is gone, not that it wasn't when she was here, but she had that kind of magic in her that pushed all the bad away, like a mother's warm embrace. But now a hurricane knocked on his door, came in uninvited and took everything away, even his broken heart. What was left for him to keep, other than those sweet memories spent with Ziio? He knew not..

Haytham had spent his whole afternoon in his office, not being able to get any paperwork done and refusing to eat or drink anything since the minute those _goddamned_ flowers were set on his desk by one of the maids of this household. Said to be sent by Charles and the others to give their respects, and show what little grief they felt. But Haytham wanted none of that. No flowers, or stupid cards. He didn't want to remember her death. He'd rather live in the illusion of knowing she's still here to embrace him and tell him that, _'It's alright, everything's alright.'_... Her voice echoed through the room and into his heart.

He shifted on the couch, almost ready to cry his tired eyes out as his hands automatically covered them in vulnrable embarrasement. The curtains behind him were drawn close, and he paid no mind of the dark nor at the noisy working maids in the kitchen downstairs. It was the sound of tiny footsteps across the hallway which halted right outside his door that made him stop whatever he was about to regrettably do, and Haytham sniffled lightly when he looked up. The door opened and he watched his 5-year-old son peak into the office, poking his head in curiously to find his father on the couch.

"Father..?" the boy said, his innocent eyes narrowing to see better in the dim room. He grinned childishly with enthusiasm as he pushed the door wide open to run towards Haytham.

"Connor, my son." Haytham starts, "What in Heaven's name are you doing, running around the mansion with this oversized shirt?" not even a second, and he was already lecturing his son over something that mattered little. "You might step on the hem and fall, boy. You wouldn't want that to happen now, do you?"

"But this shirt's so warm, father! I like it." he giggled, trying with little effort to pull himself up on the couch to sit next to his father. He raised his little arms up which were covered with the exaggeratingly long sleeves of the white shirt. "It's yours, I found it on your bed this morning so I wore it!"

"Hmm, and I wondered where it went," Haytham chuckled, ruffling his son's rather long hair. He should get one of the maids to shorten it a little, it was getting pretty ridiculous. The thought left him as quickly as it came before pulling the boy into a loose hug.

"What have you been up to, son? You're as energetic as that one time you ate a whole jar of sugar coated biscuits behind the maids' back while your mother-" _Ziio_. He almost forgot about her..

"Nevermind.."

Connor interrupted, "Mother made those biscuits." he grinned obliviously and brightly.

"Indeed she did." Haytham agreed with a weak smile.

"I was so happy when she did. When will she make more, father?"

Haytham said nothing to that. He just kissed his son's forehead and kept his eyes closed for quite a while, arms wrapped protectively around Connor.

"Father?" Connor said, tilting his head in confusion. There was silence for a while before he finally felt it. The empty wetness on his long sleeved shirt and the light tremble followed with every heavy breath his father took. He was crying on his shoulder. Little Connor frowned and he brought a small hand up, covered with the oversized sleeve, and wiped his father's tears away. He was about to speak when Haytham interrupted with choked gasps.

"I'm sorry, Connor. God, I am_ so_ sorry.." he cried, cheeks red and wet as he hugged Connor closely, tighter than ever. Sorry for what, it seemed that the old Kenway didn't know. Of course, Connor hadn't known either, how could he? He was but a mere child. But that didn't stop him from smiling reassuringly in such a caring manner, just like Ziio once did when she felt the urge to comfort Haytham in stressful situations.

"It's okay, father. It's okay." But Haytham kept apologizing, as if it were his fault that Ziio died, that she left this world.

Connor continued, _"It's okay,_ _Father, everything's okay._ I forgive you, so don't be sad. Mother will make biscuits for you, too!"

It was that flicker in his heart, warm and encouraging that made him stop crying. It overpowered his despair over the death of his wife, it was strong. It was a smile. A smiled he smiled through those agonizing tears that he shouldn't have shed. He smiled because he knew..

"Yes, Connor.." he whispered, "She will, wont she?" He collected himself and wiped his wet cheeks with his hand. Honestly, he was trying to comofrt himself with silly child talk. But he knew.. He knew that Connor kept her so real, so.. _Alive._ He kept her with them, and such a gift was rare. When Haytham looked into his son's eyes, he noticed the resemblance, he noticed hope.

Connor finally giggled, "She will. I Promise!"

_..._

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**Yeaahh.. No idea where this came from. Hoped you enjoyed nonetheless, and I deeply apologize for any mistakes. **


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